Hallelujah Mountain

December 8, 2008
By Jeremiah Coleman, Columbia, SC

Day 1

Jesus Christ.
They were screaming. They’re mouths were frozen in dead grins, but only because Simp had put them that way. She had to, she could not stand the jaws agape, swallowing her soul, yanking it through her stomach like an inner umbilical cord, feeding her the memories of they’re screams.
Simp was stuck, more like trapped, in an auditorium. No food. Only these dead bodies. the one alive at ground zero, thought Simp, i’d make headliner of our newspaper if they weren’t all dead
holy crap
lordy Lord
They were still screaming. Simp had went to each tensed, screaming mouth, and had formed them into grins.
“It’s not real,” she whispered madly, that night, rocking on her heals; head in her lap, hair matted with thick sweat. Sweet salt was in the air, and her throat burned. God, she was hungry.
Simp prayed. But she knew it would do no good. She had never particularly believed in that holy trinity crap. Never afraid to vain the bible,
look where praying got you mother dead that’s where it got you
Simp cursed.
i’ll never make it out.
God, was she hungry. Thirsty.
Day 2
She dreamt that day, that early, early morning.
She was at home, Simp and her mother. She was back at her familiar coffee table, having toast in the morning. The table was stained dark caramel, by her mother The walls were yellow, the picture frames tacked to it were green. The pictures were of genuine happiness, not formal family portrait crap, Christ no. The carpet was patched black and tan, bare of rugs or shags. There was one love seat at the far wall to the left, and to the far right was the staircase. Simp was reading, toast in hand; her mother upstairs sleeping, when the village siren screamed, except the siren sounded like everyone in the auditorium,
S C R E A M I N G.

Simp awoke to the sound of the siren,
it was the people
finding that she was crying. She was crying for the book she had been reading that morning,
crying for a book jesus a book
DAY 0, when everything first started, when the cliff cracked down to the valley…
Simp looked up. She saw a small window towards the middle point up the wall of the auditorium. It poured forth sunlight, one of twelve, lined all around the auditorium. Simp wanted to get up there so bad. She wanted to see what civilized nature looked like, she wanted to see grass, fences, dogs, people, (live ones) and concrete. She wanted lemonade, and apples, and trees, birds, bugs, snakes, and all the other stuff, things, and etcetera items. She wanted friendships, relationships, and all those other ships.
jesus christ I’m dying all around me.
Suddenly, with a tightening grip, reality cave in on her, and she choked for breath. Her emotions snapped in her, and she started leaking on the inside, pouring something from herself. Oozing down her ribcage. Her anger, bewilderment, sadness, ectasy, it all died quickly, unlike the cadavers she was with. She balled into a fetal position, realizing that she would die here, realizing part of her was already
dead dead.deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead

i cant even cope i’m only eleven only eleven only-
She was in her mother’s room,
Her mother told her not to worry, and smiled. “Don’t worry, hon. It’s probably just a drill or a fluke. Let’s go to the auditorium and find out what’s-”
There was a knock, no a punch, at the door.
“Joyle, Joyle!”
Screamed the stranger beating the door.
“Joyle! Joy-”
Simp’s mother opened the door. The woman outside had dirty blonde hair, that was pulled back and tied with yarn. Her face was wrinkled, and her eyes of blue had lost their twinkle. She sweated from each pore like blood from a wound. She smelled bad-
“Joyle, I-I”
Simp’s mother grabbed the old woman as she fell, nearly faint, knees seeming to crumple like burning paper.
“Sega, Missus Sega, please, sit, come-”
“No time Joyle, the crack,”
Simp poked her head in between her mother’s dress and the door, flinching painfully as her ear passed over the frame.
“What’s wrong missus?” She inquisited, but her mom slapped her back lightly, frowning. “Please, Sega, what-”
“The mountain broke,” whispered the faint woman, still puffing out cold, exasperated air.
Simp’s mother glazed and bulged her eyes like a dear in head lights, and said, God no, not hallelujah mountain. We’re all poisoned. We’ll all… we’ll all… poisonous gas.”
God no

Simp woke up dazed and confused, she smiled thinking she was at home waking up, and even called out,


But when she heard the dead echo, she cried. God, was she hungry. Thirsty. Then, she saw the bodies…move. They started shaking some. Only certain one’s shook. Most stayed sleeping forever. Simp stared wide- eyed in horror as the dead faces contorted into relaxed laughs, and even seemed to start breathing. But, they didn’t inhale, only exhale.


Simp looked around. That’s when she heard a scream from behind her. A body was turned upright, as if it was relaxed, and like aluminum foil, crinkled back to dead. Simp felt heavy and sick. She threw up,
it was red like blood red like blood
then fainted to the sound of screams.
She forgot whether they were hers or not.
Simp struggled to awake that morning, or afternoon. She had welcomed death, finding it inevitable.

Then the thought came.
It was insane.
Simp saw the bodies, and her eyes focused in blurrily, blood shot. The picture got so blurry and contorted that Simp started watering in the eye and she had to blink the tear away. She drooled slightly, saliva dripping softly on to her arm, sliding to her wrists.
eat the bodys eat the bodys eatthebodys

Dead wilted flowers her mother’s fingers tasted like dead wilted flowers.

The author's comments:
Stephen King is my favorite author, except his movies usually suck, (well, the stand wasn't so bad, and neither was the mist)

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book